


Cough Syrup

by amarova



Category: SKAM (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, THIS IS TRASH SO MUCH TRASH, This was supposed to be short omg, i can't move on from noorhelm, noora is a tsundere, william is sick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-31
Updated: 2017-05-31
Packaged: 2018-11-07 06:53:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11053626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amarova/pseuds/amarova
Summary: Noora felt like a mother nursing her naughty kid who was asking for a fever.(Set in London, after S2/the beginning of S3)





	Cough Syrup

**Author's Note:**

> OKEI the idea came up to me while I, myself was gulping a cough syrup and I thought it was going to be William refusing to drink it ((being childish and want to be loved by Noora)) but I read their profiles on Skam.wikia so it escalates from there I am so sorry for the poor narrative idk what I'm thinking
> 
> *I'm singing Young the Giant's all the time while writing this

"I can't kiss you, Noora."

Noora was just about to wrap her arms around his neck after hearing those words sliding out from William's thin lips. Almost in a heartbeat she'd been eager to sort out what could happen next—London, is this where they would end up?—sure, William had to work 24/7 for his father and coming home tired, but happy, and she's tired of visiting museums, but happy, but there is no way that this is happening. Not right now.

She doesn't want to let go.

"Why?"

William's slender fingers gently holds the index and the middle and the left ring finger of Noora, attempting to let her entire body to get away, or so it seems in her hypothetical case.

"Just a minute."

Noora's mind is a whirlwind. You can't ask for space, Willhelm. You just can't.

She was so close to not know about anything anymore, but he just sneezed. That _drittsekk_ was only doing it for a sneeze. A boisterous, jarring sneeze, which he smartly covers up with both of his hands or Noora would go ballistic from the virus (they were not even in centimeters) and her own paranoid thoughts, and she can't choose whether it'd be better to be mad about her ever-failing assumptions of William (she needs to stop, she really does) or the fact that William is sick that Noora wanted to pet him and care for him immediately like cooking chicken soup and keeping him warm and why is she so desperate?

"Will. Helm."

A heavy, staccato cough follows afterwards.

_Now_ his nose has an apparent red tinge on the center, glowing feverishly. "Noora, I think I need a tissue."

"Here. You're a big boy, Willhelm, why don't you change into something warm?" Noora, recovering from her irk of everything that's just happened in the last five minutes, hurrying her feet to the kitchen to open the refrigerator in finding that there is no sign of a raw chicken inside. They had too much of spicy wings last night, though.

From the bedroom door she could hear William's sore throat calling, "I am changing to your favorite sweater now, what are you doing there?"

"Have you eaten yet?" She kind of murmured there, more or less.

"What's that?" William's each and every step is taking a strenuous one, but he managed to walk out from the bedroom to see all of the platinum hair of Noora bundled up in front of the refrigerator. "Oh, I already ate."

She turned to face William. He was crawling slowly, closer and closer to Noora and he still felt the growing desire to put his arms around her hips, to lean his head on her curving collarbone, if only these _fy faen_ viruses—

"When?"

He stood there, within the space of two golf sticks, being lanky. Dizzy. "Right before I went home."

Home. "What did you eat? Soup?"

"Not... really. Kjøttboller. Gravy."

"Are you full now?"

"Yes, so you don't have to make a chicken soup for me."

Noora is done folding her arms together, so she deeply sighs after remembering that William could inadvertently pass out from the long stand up and things could go really troublesome from there (she's not going to drag him out). Without a word, the blonde girl pushes William's body—with effort—still pushing, and pushing him to their bedroom and he is now lying down on their bed, tucked in white sheets with blanket.

"This should be comfortable, right?" Noora didn't wait for an answer, because her palm is checking on the temperature and William's forehead is burning. "Wait here, keep your body warm under the blanket."

She didn't take long to come in again with a damp fabric in her left hand, a box of drugs in her right, and a thermometer clamped onto her lips.

"Okei, Willhelm, here." Noora handed him the thermometer. Five seconds. She takes it away from his mouth. " _Herregud_ , you're 38...,"

"Go to the doctor?" She asked.

"Later. I want to lay down a bit."

William was barely coughing when Noora settled the warm, wet fabric on his forehead just so she could adjust it again. "I feel like a mother nursing her naughty kid who was asking for a fever,"

"You're talking too much my head hurts." And he didn't really grunt, he just coughed.

"Okei. A medicine for coughs...,"

"A kiss."

"Shut up, you said you can't kiss me."

William watched as Noora—taking her time to pick every tablets, capsules and bitter powders available in the box—observes the use and daily dose and after some time she finally made up her mind for the codeine; the cough syrup to make everything better for the "cough" fever he currently has.

"Open your mouth." William is low on energy and he doesn't care if the sticky syrup soaked her favorite sweater. "Wide."

Okay, maybe he cares a little.

It felt like a lumpy liquid flooding his bitter tongue when it already tastes too bitter. But the aftertaste was sweet, more mentholated and it's not like he couldn't stand it.

"I told you like a thousand times, William." When she pronounce his name like that, coincidentally the bitter taste fell back again, rolling like a curled up ball on his throat. Bouncing.

"You told me a thousand times that you love me?"

"No, open your mouth again." She made William gulp.

"Tablets?"

He shook his head. "Doctor, later. Cough syrup, you."

"I told you that you need to have time to rest." She said it with an exhausted expression.

"Hei, my dad's co-worker was the one who snots and sneezes like shit yesterday before he had taken a sick leave."

Noora closed the cough syrup's lid, stuffed it back into the box and placed it on the bedside table with the thermometer. She blew out a sigh, "If you had enough sleep and healthy nutrition and _also_ a daily workout, you would've turn out fine."

William didn't know why, but she sounds irritated. "Tell me that the wings we had last night was good. We still have some more, right?"

"William!" Noora inserts a warning in her tone. She looks like a personification of an anger rushing in and out, red and then orange and then yellow.

He didn't answer to her exasperation. He was only exhaling oxygen, facing Noora and Noora only, on to the things to muse to for artists; ceiling and the door and everything else, like windows.

"I know what you're talking about," he started, "I know how you care for me." In William's mind, he could hear Noora retorts with her usual "nei", but at times his thoughts could be wrong. Because the time seemed to stop; she was silent this time, not arguing. The wholesome of Noora was caught in the vast blackness of his eyes. Observing. As if they were adjoining in one sphere. Intertwining. Her shoulder hugged herself, loosely and lonely, while her big, grayish eyes blinked softly and her round face is dim, but gleaming like a pale blue moon.

"When I ran away from you that time, I didn't know where to stay." He said, staring at the lamp above.

This shot a tiny hole to Noora's body. She should've stopped wondering. _In Oslo? In another apartment in Oslo? In your friend's place in Oslo? In my place in Oslo, with Eskild and Linn?_

Her mind is buzzing, really. But he didn't hear them.

"After the accident, everything just fell into place. It's a mess. And believe me, I don't even know whether my mom is there or not, so the last resort—the only choice I had was London. Here." He said in a full-stop on that as he blows out his nose. "You know how my dad never complimented on my drawings,"

"It didn't have to happen, though?"

"It did. And now we're here."

When he speaks like this, all the mean—nevertheless true—things that Noora had said to him are evaporating. Easily. Without any restraint. Like breathing. She noticed how his eyes moved, wandering, and remained there; somewhere, and she's curious to know what's going on with all of his atoms inside his body. _William, you're tall, but you can lay low once in a while._

"I thought you weren't going to come back." 

"I was confused, but you showed up from your apartment door."

William closed his eyes as Noora—is so familiar, so safe to hold him close and touch his face like she plucks the petals of a flower, like all he needed was Noora. Like the dose of cough syrup isn't enough to make him see her right back and caress his caramel hair.

_I have trouble letting people in_

"So... I'm trying. I don't want to leave you like the last time and I'll try to lead a healthy life. With you." His voice was beginning to die after one sentence and another. That's an embarrassment he's hiding.

Noora was a little bothered by the fact that William is blushing (it's too apparent) and that she actually  _can_ help herself to not kiss him all over.

"Seriously, William, you're the biggest cliché I've ever met."

_But you've been in for too deep_

"Don't tease me. Aren't you supposed to care for me because I'm sick?" He looked at her weirdly.

Noora doesn't care for much now, as she pillow-fights him in the most adorable way as possible, leaving him laughing and begging for mercy. He hadn't been this way since they first arrived at London, although this could be an excruciating torture for a sick person.

"Okay, Noora, okay. I'm serious now. Stop it,"

"Why should I stop?" Both of her hands are gripping the fluffy pillow tightly in the air. William could see her belly button showing.

"You should, because I'm about to ask you a very important matter." He flipped his ridiculous side bangs and inquired her, "don't you want to kiss me?"

Noora can't help but to laugh amusingly. It goes on and on and on. "Are you serious? Nei, Willhelm, stop contaminating other people!" But she was getting closer to William too, still holding the pillowcase in hand.

He was on his knees, as if proposing. That's ridiculous, and Noora finds it lovely. "But you're not other people. You're Noora."

_So it's okay_.

Even if he tasted like cough syrup.


End file.
